


A Story We Tell Ourselves

by LuxEvergreen



Series: Happiness Is Only Real When Shared [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Mild Angst, horse death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxEvergreen/pseuds/LuxEvergreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I knew that if I allowed fear to overtake me, my journey was doomed. Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told. I decided I was safe. I was strong. I was brave. Nothing could vanquish me."</p>
<p> <br/>Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Story We Tell Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> Q: Is this their first kiss?  
> A: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Q: Any smut?  
> A: ಠ_ಠ

 

  
A tight cramp seized Jaime's stomach.

_Gods be good...why am I so nervous?_

He took a drink of water to calm his nerves; still anxious, Jaime nervously swished the water in his canteen with a deep, cleansing breath; his palm felt oddly sweaty in his glove. He was debating with himself whether or not if this would be the moment to give Brienne her first kiss.

The morning was beautiful; fresh snowfall from the night before shimmered in dawn's blushing light, making the pristine ice twinkle like fine shards of broken glass surrounding the maid. She was busy extinguishing their camp fire from last night, kicking dusty snow over the dying embers while Jaime volunteered to pack up their bedrolls with a slow, deliberate intention; he was starting to appreciate any excuse he could find just to study her.

_It's just a kiss. A simple kiss for Brienne…what’s there to be so scared about?_

Jaime felt his cheeks start to burn with an embarrassed flush once he heard Brienne hum the sweet tune of a romantic ballad to herself. Trying hard to ignore the pretty measure of her voice, he lowered his eyes and meekly decided against kissing her; a small, stress induced headache started to throb at his temples.

Several days had passed since their drunken night in the hayloft.

The morning following their inebriated festivities, Jaime woke up to find that he was alone. Well, almost alone; the annoying goat in the loft was his only companion. He was startled to find the bearded pest glaring down at him instead of Brienne; the hairy monster woke him up by ungraciously nuzzling his coat pockets, trying to sniff out any morsel of food tucked away in his clothing. Jaime opened his eyes to see the pest wag its nubby little tail before it bleated out its morning welcome. He winced from a blinding stab of pain in his skull; it was far too early for such nonsense.

Stumbling around the loft with squinting eyes and a cotton dry mouth, Jaime called out for his wench but she was nowhere to be seen; he was annoyed to discover that the obstinate goat had taken a shine to him; the cretin followed him around the loft, constantly bleating as it trotted around on its cloven hooves like a demented shadow. Shushing his unwanted companion he finally heard a distinctive noise: it was the pitiful sounds of retching coming from outside. Slow and with discretion, he opened a shutter window in the loft to find Brienne outside; the poor maiden was hunched over, ill with a violent hangover. Splatters of brown sprayed the snow and rocks surrounding her feet; Jaime winced in empathy.

_Poor girl has probably never been drunk before._

He carefully watched Brienne compose herself from a respectful distance. She was wearily spitting and making faint groaning sounds with both hands on her knees, hunched over her wide puddle of sick with a noticeable sway to her body. It was with a sneaking suspicion Jaime concluded that a first kiss would probably be the last thing Brienne would want anytime soon. Not only was he correct in his assumption, the wench couldn't even bring herself to eat anything until the next day. From breathing to speaking or even drinking water, nearly everything was enough to make Brienne want to gag, never mind her entertaining any thoughts of food.

By the third day, Brienne was slowly getting back to her former self. Relieved, Jaime began to look for the perfect moment to give the maid her first kiss. He never gave much thought as to why it was so important for him; he was only aware of the fact that his friend deserved a first kiss, and not only that, he really wanted to be the one to do it.

Since she'd been nursing her hangover, Jaime had plenty of time to think of several different ways to finally kiss her. He would become so involved with his detailed planning and daydreaming that Brienne would often catch him _just staring_ at her. With an uncomfortable smile on her face she would often startle Jaime from his foggy trance with a vague question, only to see him awkwardly laugh and brush her off with a strange flush to his cheeks.

By the fifth day, Jaime was starting to quietly panic. It seemed like nothing was ever good enough for Brienne's first kiss: it was too dark, it was too bright; there were too many mass graves nearby; he had nothing interesting to say, he suddenly lacked the wit to make her laugh even. His anxieties and doubts began to eat away at his natural self-confidence; it began to slowly mystify him. _Why am I so bloody nervous? It was never like this with Cersei..._  

For most of his life, Jaime would oftentimes act before he’d given any thought to the consequences; he’d often find himself moving within the fluid pulse of his subconscious desires without any hesitations or doubt; sometimes it was his greatest weakness, sometimes it was his finest strength, but ever since the night he made the choice to give Brienne her first kiss...nothing ever seemed like it was good enough for her.

Annoyed by his indecisiveness, Jaime changed his mind once more: he decided he would give Brienne her first kiss— _now_ —in the wintry sunrise. Standing up from the unfinished bedrolls Jaime let out a determined huff of shaky breath while summoning up the courage to walk up to her. _I'm going to come up from behind, turn her around and just…_  But before he even had a chance to get close enough, Brienne stood up from the extinguished fire pit, quick and sharp like a spooked rabbit.

The maid suddenly froze; she was ramrod straight and stone quiet. Off in the distance both could hear the echoes of a horse baying nearby. With a quick glance over her shoulder Brienne caught Jaime's attention; she threw him a warning look and gave him a brief jerk of her head towards the direction of the sound; Jaime nodded. Oathkeeper’s silvery ring filled the air once she slid the Valyrian blade from its sheath; Jaime quickly walked up to guard the maid's left side while clutching his bare steel in hand as well.

They had company.

**  
**

\--------------------

**  
**

The sound of a whickering horse started to grow louder.  

Jaime kept his sword close to one side while Brienne took slow, measured steps on the other; Oathkeeper's red blade shined violet in the blue haze of the dark, wintry forest. The soft crunch and faint squeak of powdery snow compacting beneath their boots was the only sound that accompanied the struggling horse nearby.

In the frost bitten air Brienne locked her steely eyes onto Jaime's; with a quick series of hand gestures both silently agreed to have Brienne take the first look down in the embankment where the noise was coming from while Jaime covered her back. Nodding in agreement Brienne made the careful steps closer to the ledge of the rocky cliff while Jaime kept his eyes on alert for anyone who may try to surprise them.  

Sweeping the dense forestry with a sharp eye, he heard Brienne make soft, delicate steps towards the edge while his breath fell still in his chest. Wondering what she'd find, he waited in tense silence while the horse trapped in the embankment whinnied and struggled some more. Moments passed. With a quick glance backwards he could see that Brienne was no longer in a defensive stance; the maiden was standing blatantly on the edge of the cliff with her thick shoulders slumped low and Oathkeeper pointed downward.

"Clear; it's all clear."

Jaime slowly let his guard down while he made his way over to the maid's side. Standing next to her at last, he finally understood Brienne's deflated appearance once he looked down.

Down the steep and rocky embankment, he found the body of a man spread out on top of a frozen stream, dusted over in a thin layer of fluffy snow. Next to him, on a wide patch of the frozen waters, a handsome skewbald horse struggled and twitched his broken body helplessly. With a brief exchange of subtle and pained expressions both silently agreed to scale down the rocky cliff and see to the horse's merciful end.

It was a tricky climb down, most of the rocks they found were glazed over in thick sheets of rippled ice; every stone covered in fresh snow offered some traction, but neither one scaled down the embankment in haste.  Brienne smiled carefully as she offered Jaime a helping hand down from the last, treacherous step.

"My hero."  

Brienne was tempted to roll her eyes at Jaime's droll comment, but she didn't. She knew he was making an effort to dismiss his humbled pride; the harsh acceptance of his limitations was slowly improving, though Jaime's gradual acceptance of it sometimes made him feel older than he was. The climb down with only one hand proved to be more challenging than he wanted to believe.  It was a precarious climb down even when his footing felt sure, never mind the lump of fear he had to swallow every time the rocks felt too narrow or slick. Firmly planting his feet on solid ground, Jaime cursed lightly once he understood the gravity of the horse's misery; the poor beast had suffered compound fractures to both its rear and front legs.

_"Damnit."_  

The skewbald was beautiful; it most certainly had been a prized stallion when it was in its prime; under a patchy blanket of fresh snow the horse had a milky white coat speckled with honey gold spots; Jaime tried hard to calm the suffering creature with a soft and loving hand.

" _Shhhhh...shhhhhh_.  Easy, _easy._  You're alright; _it's alright._ "  The beautiful horses stilled his flinching, panicked head. Slowly resting his exhausted face onto the frozen creek Jaime felt haunted once the horse's wild and darting eye locked onto his.

Brienne grimly assessed the area surrounding the broken horse and the dead man. Based on the appearances of freshly fallen rocks and the haphazard shower of loose pebbles scattered across the frozen creek, Brienne sighed with comprehension while Jaime methodically patted the horse's snuffing muzzle.  

"Looks like the horse slipped from ice on the path of that narrow ledge..." Jaime glanced up at the center of the embankment where Brienne was pointing up to. He quickly glanced back down, the horse tried to lift his head again in a slight panic; Jaime tried to shush the creature with a small murmur of comfort; Brienne continued. "I don't think the rider suffered; his body must have tumbled down the cliff like a child's toy. Most likely broke his neck on impact."

The horse, however, suffered greatly; the fresh snowfall didn't accumulate until dusk last night. Fresh tracks on the snow surrounding the horse showed a lone wolf had recently circled the suffering horse, causing the creature to whicker in panic moments ago. Jaime's forehead pinched together in a quiet disbelief. _The poor thing has been suffering like this for hours._ He had been amazed he had survived this long, never mind the fact he should have frozen to death by now.

"He must have been desperate enough to try and pass through this terrain by horse.”  Brienne looked down at both the horse and Jaime while she spoke in a pitiful tone. _“Poor old beast._ " Jaime failed to respond; he could only focus on the soft, fluttering lips of the suffering creature while it made friendly, gentle licks on the palm of his hand. The sweet horse nickered once more for Jaime's kind touch. After a long while Brienne quietly walked up behind him. "Do you want me to do it?"

Brienne's reluctant question somehow felt startling to him; using his cold fingers to fold and stroke the horse’s ear, Jaime swallowed hard while his stomach began to clench up again; he finally replied in a slow, gentle voice.

"No. I'll do it."

**  
**

\----------------------

**  
**

The blood wiped clean from his blade, but Jaime still felt sick to his stomach.

He made quick work of the horses miserable end, promptly finding the dear creature's heart with the tip of his sword; Jaime had to close his eyes shortly before he extinguished the skewbald's life.

He hated how easy it was to pierce the horse's chest with only a sword. He hated seeing its lifeless eye look through him once he slowly dragged the blade back out. He hated how they had no way of burying the poor thing afterwards; they had enough rocks to cover the remains of the frozen rider, but there was not enough for the horse. With a flash of heat rising up his neck and a faint bloom of sweat on his brow, Jaime followed Brienne out of the embankment only to dwell on the fact that the poor horse would likely be scavenged upon by wolves soon after. With a gentle hand and a soft look, Brienne led Jaime back to their campsite in near silence.

Their destination was a small hamlet settled along the banks of the Sweetglen Canyon. Off in the distance, dark, billowing clouds began to swallow up the distant horizon, signaling the threat of a snowstorm that was fast approaching; Brienne told her companion it would be wise to find lodgings soon and to wait it out. Jaime never said a word of protest. The long miles they walked felt too painful and tedious for him; Brienne kept trying to sidle up to him on occasion just to chat but he made consistent efforts to keep his distance from her. Brienne was becoming worried. _Something's wrong..._

Though the wench was surprised by how long they were taking to cross just a few miles, Jaime fervently hoped Brienne wouldn't notice his sluggish pace or his quiet demeanor. He was even starting to linger in the deep woods by himself for longer periods of time in order to relieve himself. By his third trip into the woods Brienne was getting nervous; after a considerable length of time she followed him into the dark forestry to check in on him.

“Jaime?”  

Trudging through the dense pathway he forged, Brienne soon found him; he was draped over the width of a tree trunk, clinging onto it like a withered vine. He was slowly kicking snow over a watery brown puddle near his feet; he was desperately trying to conceal his shame.

_“Jaime…”_

He paused; he knew he couldn't keep up the ruse forever. With a pallid smile and a deep sigh, Jaime clumsily tried to stand back up on his feet. “Wench. It’s obvious; you can’t live without me.” The frail cadence of his voice chilled the maid; slowly making her way towards him she realized what it was he was trying to conceal from her. The pronounced scent of watery shit pierced the cold air; he was growing violently ill. Brienne was startled to see just how weary Jaime looked. With gentle hands she lovingly feathered his clammy face; if he had the strength he would have flinched from her touches in embarrassment.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

Jaime didn't know how to answer her question; he could only shrug his shoulders since he was too weak to respond; his reasons for not saying anything were complicated: part of him didn't want to admit that he was sick, another part of him was mortified by it; another part—an even greater part—Jaime simply didn't want to have Brienne worrying about him.

Chewing on her lower lip the maid tried to catch his eyes while a cold stone of worry began to fill her stomach. “Can you walk just a few miles more?” Her voice sounded almost maternal; with a forced, painful smile, Jaime nodded his head before Brienne lead him back to the road.

Quiet for the rest of their walk, the two made their way into the hamlet by late afternoon. They were fortunate enough to find vacancy for the night; it was a clean, tidy inn situated above a humble dye shop. Large bolts of wool were found everywhere, freshly dyed in deep shades of blues, reds and violets; the wet, freshly pigmented fabric hung from dozens of thin rods that dangled from the rafters above. It wasn't until then when they were finally inside of the inn did Brienne see Jaime fully by candlelight; instantly, she felt the blood drain from her face. He was deathly pale with a waxy sheen on his skin; his eyes were dark and his lips were drawn inside of his mouth to silence his chattering teeth.

_Gods, he’s suffering..._

Once the room was paid, Brienne grabbed a hold of Jaime's shivering arm and quickly ushered him to their room; it was furnished with only the bare essentials: a small pitcher of water on a modest table, a straw mattress on the floor and a pile moth eaten blankets piled up high in the center of the bed. The only redemption the room had to offer was the great fireplace that dominated the width of the room.

Peeling off his snowy cloak in front of the building fire, Brienne felt her hands start to flutter with nerves once she began to unfasten his clothing. His whole body was shivering then; his breathing had started to grow shallow. "Here; come here."  Her soothing voice and gentle hands led him to the mattress in front of the licking flames. Making quick work of removing his slushy boots, Jaime soon felt Brienne tug off his jerkin once he closed his eyes; he felt a sharp, painful lurch rise up from his stomach.

She stripped him down to his breeches and undershirt; Brienne was astonished to see that his tunic was nearly soaked through with sweat. " _Jaime..."_ His face fell slack; he looked humiliated. Hearing her coo out his name in such a loving, tender voice almost brought tears to his dark eyes. Brienne’s pitiful words from earlier that day began to echo ceaselessly in his tired mind.

_'Poor old beast…’_

Jaime cringed.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this. It's no wonder I hadn't kissed her._ Brienne helped him slowly pull off his damp tunic; after a few moments, she started to tuck his long hair behind his ears, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. _It was never about any_ _single moment that wasn't good enough for her_. The maid rested one hand on Jaime's bearded cheek. He sighed once he closed his heavy eyes. _It was only me: I'm not good enough for her._

 

Jaime opened his eyes and looked back at Brienne; he wanted to apologize but before he could say a word, his eyes suddenly bolted open with a harsh, burning sensation climbing up his throat. A quick gush of sickly yellow vomit sprayed out of his mouth and onto the floor.

That was the last thing he would remember before the darkness took hold of him.

\---------------------

**  
**

She was reluctant, but in the end, Brienne didn't have a choice: she called for a healer to see to Jaime.

A long hour passed; the inn keeper's son set out into the woods before the snowstorm reached to find the local healer, a strange, mysterious woman who most of the locals thought of as nothing more than an evil woods witch. It was said by the residents of the hamlet that it was she who cursed maidens barren and turned proud men blind.

The woman who knocked on Brienne’s door was a small creature with leathery skin and thin, puckered lips; she appeared to be middle aged, with long, mousy brown hair and coppery, almond shaped eyes. Small lumps of green moss and twigs were stuck to the back of her knotted, tangled hair; Brienne thought the woman had a faint smell of goat about her too; she introduced herself by the name of Fauna.

“Did you have any wild game recently?” The healer soon crouched down on the straw mattress, carefully examining Jaime with a cool eye of objectivity. Looming over them both, Brienne nervously wrung her hands in front of the fireplace while she watched Fauna open her patient's mouth with aloof detachment.

“No; we've only eaten from our own supplies these last two days: oats, salted meat, cheese and some hard bread.”

Small, leathery fingers started to prod into Jaime’s neck; she was searching for any swollen lumps along his bearded jaw line. “And you two have eaten the same meals since yesterday?”

Brienne sighed. “Yes.”

A hard scowl crossed Fauna’s face once Jaime started to mumble feverishly in his sleep. "Do you share your water or do you carry your own?

“We carry our own.”

Pausing in her brief examination, the small woman looked up at Brienne with a blank expression on her face; her voice dropped down by an octave. "Did he refill his water anywhere nearby recently?"

"Uhh..."  Brienne's eyes darted across her boots as she frantically searched her memory. "He refilled his canteen last night; there was a small stream not ten miles from here."

A hard sigh filled the room. “That stream came from the Sweetglen Canyon.  Soldiers from the Vale camped all throughout that valley recently; many of them were sick…”  Brienne felt the hairs on her arm stand on end. “In spite of all of the precautions they took, the soldier's waste still managed to leach into the watershed.”

Feeling faint, Brienne’s mouth turned dry while she looked down at her best friend with wide, startled eyes. Terrified, her voice dropped to a low whisper. "Could—could he die?"

A tense silence filled the room; Fauna's lips slowly morphed into a thin line of bitter recollection; she lowered her copper brown eyes in a brief flash of shame. "I treated a little girl with this same affliction few days ago. She did not make it."  Absorbing the cold news with a flood of dread, Brienne's eyes turned unblinking while her worried lips softly fell apart into an ‘O’ of understanding. Fauna continued in a calm, grim voice. "We need to boil water. Once it's cooled he'll need to drink it; he's depleted. He'll be delirious until this fever is broken; it's going to be important to monitor him til then. Because of the storm I'm going to stay here to treat him; you're going to need help, _a lot of help_." Unbidden, a swell of tears flooded Brienne's pale blue eyes.  Fauna glanced up at maid. "He is not young...but he is strong."

Nodding her red face, crumpled from stifled tears, Brienne soon felt the healer rub a consoling hand along her back with a quiet, maternal comfort and a warm smile.  With a deep, watery sniff she composed herself, valiantly wiping away at her errant tears; Fauna nodded her head at Brienne with reserved optimism and soon began to unpack her supplies from a wooden box she traveled with. Brienne's expression turned numb with denial while the healer began to grind up pungent roots to treat her patient's illness. _He can't die...he can't; after everything that we've been through together…_ After a long moment of silence Brienne looked back down at Jaime as he started to feverishly mumble in his sleep again; it was then she finally saw the looming shade of mortality fill the creases of his gaunt features. _If he dies...if I lose him..._

Brienne could not abide entertaining such dark thoughts for long. She knelt down next to the healer with desperate eyes and a shaky voice. “What can I do for him? Is there any way I can help you?”

Fauna glanced up at the maid; she thought her to be a strange, curious woman. She was so tall, with a hard, imposing figure much like that of the Warrior...but she had the eyes and heart of the Maid herself. Fauna was touched by Brienne’s willingness to help her; so many people despised her upon first sight; they would spit at her feet, calling her a 'woods witch' only because she lived alone in the darkest parts of the forest and was not married; but with this strange woman, Fauna felt an odd connection to her; they were similar, akin to one another; it was as if they were somehow cut from the same cloth.  In her, Fauna could see that Brienne was a woman who had known cruelty her entire life; that she too had been mocked, mistreated and wounded by many. Just like her.

“You _can_ be of help.”  Brienne's eyes lit up with anticipation.  “Be there for him; _speak to him_. In the darkness...he will listen to you.”

The maid’s blue eyes turned to Jaime; with drying tears and a small frown she eventually responded. “I...I have no words...what can I say?”  Fauna smiled at Brienne with a quiet knowing, she knew full well the girl had words to speak; a song was tethered to her bruised heart but she was terrified to give the words any life; it was obvious to see that the maid was painfully in love with him. “Tell him the truth, dearest. If words fail...your actions will speak louder than any words.”

**  
**

\---------------------

**  
**

Jaime was surprised by how warm he felt.

He was lost within the shadowy den of snow covered forest. He was completely alone, cloaked within an oppressive mist of silence; the glaze of white snow surrounded him left him feeling unnerved, sickly and hollow.  

A sea of ghostly whispers snuck over his straining ears; some of the voices he could heard were sorrowful, some were threatening; one begged for him to stay, a growing chorus of whispers pleaded for him to run. When he turned around Jaime found nothing except for the scattered footprints of countless people who once stood behind him.  Ahead of him, for as far the eye could see, the snow was an unblemished canvas, a blank sheet for only him to write on.

Jaime knew that the footprints behind him belonged to every soul ever born a Lannister who was now dead: he saw the footsteps of his father, Uncle Kevan; his aunts and cousins, great grandparents; he even saw the footsteps of Lan the Clever at a great distance away. With a sickening dread, Jaime looked down to look for the distinguished footsteps of his little brother. Thankfully, he was not there; instead he found the slender footsteps of a woman close behind; close to her footprints was Joffrey's. A dark chill ran down his spine; Jaime knew who those small footprints belonged to.

Ahead of him, through the agate blue fog of the dense forest, he saw her. For one brief moment Jaime no longer felt alone.

Dressed in her inky blue armor, standing as tall and proud as any Lannister, he could see her pale blonde hair in flashes as she walked tall amongst the dark trees. The very sight of Brienne took his breath away; she was poised, confident, strong, unflinching and somehow, altogether she became strangely...beautiful.

She was perfect to him.

Next to her, he saw a great lion with a heavy limp trail close by, frequently raising his magnificent head upwards to study the maid's calm and serene face. She in turn looked down at her beastly companion and ran her long fingers through its shaggy black and gold mane; Jaime was amazed to see her touch the lion without any fear; she did so with a comforting ease and a disarming familiarity.

Without thinking, he followed her. The untouched snow stretched out before him no longer felt like something that was fragile or precious; it was no longer something that was worthy of fear or his scrutiny; he was simply a man carving out a path so he would no longer have to stand alone.

Every step forward became heavier, more awkward than the last; every footprint he made forced him to fall deeper and deeper into the frozen, powdery snow. He felt his legs grow numb and heavy as he fought against the suction of each step downward. It was as if though the snow itself was trying to keep a mortal hold of him, refusing to let him go on his determined path. As he struggled and panted, he continued to follow Brienne; he did not dare lose sight of her.

With every step he made the snow would rise up higher than the last. Up to his knees, to his thighs, to his hips; higher and higher, until finally he struggled with his entire body to move once it rose up to his chest. He called out for help, but he had no voice. Fearing abandonment he tried to scream, but not a sound would come out.   

Far off in the distance Brienne finally turned around to look out at the horizon; he felt his heart swell with hope...but she did not see him. He felt like weeping, he was terrified she would leave him, just like all the others. Once his hoarse voice began to finally strain out of his mouth a deafening boom filled the landscape and the snowy forest trembled with a deep and shuddering quake. A quick series of hard cracks filled the quiet air and for one moment, Brienne finally saw him; their eyes had locked. All was wrapped in perfect silence.

And then the snow surrounding him began to collapse.

The sharp, winter air was knocked out of his lungs; he was lost within a showering fall of thundering snow. He screamed but his voice could not be distinguished over the roar of the wintery sinkhole he fell into. It felt like he fell forever when suddenly, he hit the ground with a heavy crash against a hard sheet of impenetrable ice.

He was now a broken pile of humanity at the bottom of the rocky embankment; his left arm and leg suffered ghastly compound fractures. He tried to move but flashes of blinding hot pain filled his body. Off at a distance he could hear Brienne's soft voice lulling and soothing him with sweet hushes.  

He tried to move but it was useless, his entire body was twisted and shattered like a broken toy. _What good am I now? What good am I to anyone?_

Brienne stood in front of him; to finally see her felt like a miracle.

The maid carefully squatted down in front of his body and slowly reached out to touch his face with a slow, cautious hand. He tried to speak, but it was useless; none of the words he tried to say could be heard. Instead, Brienne tried to shush him with sweet, comforting words while running her fingers over his hair; she cooed and whispered, she lovingly touched his ear. Jaime dropped his face to the frozen creek, quietly weeping with the sick dread of knowing. He heard her gentle voice ripple over him like a soft breeze fluttering across a still pond.

_“Poor old beast.”_

Off from some shadowy distance, Jaime could hear a disembodied voice ask Brienne if she'd like for someone else to put the suffering creature out of its misery. Brienne made loving, shushing sounds with her voice while she ran her hand over Jaime's tear streaked face.

"No.  I'll do it."

Slowly opening his eyes again in the fog of dreams, Jaime no longer saw Brienne trying to usher him to his peaceful end. Instead, he found his sister dressed in blood red silks and with long, golden hair. She stood high above him; in her hands she held Oathkeeper. Jaime was disgusted; he wanted to roar with rage—he wanted to say that it was Brienne's sword, he wanted to say that she had no right to touch it—but none of his words would come out.

With the ruthless tip of Oathkeeper placed over his beating heart, Jaime tried to struggle; he wanted to speak, he tried to scream. With a smug, self-satisfied grin Cersei leaned heavily onto the hilt of the blade. Before he had a chance to cry out the Valyrian steel carved through his chest with as much ease as falcon slicing its wings through the gauzy wisps of summer clouds

Dark blood pumped from his chest; he watched steam rise from the open wound. He felt his eyes flutter shut; he knew he would soon meet his end. As his breathing grew slower he felt the cold, oppressive darkness surround him.

But it was then he felt it; a soft kiss on his temple. He could hear Brienne's weeping voice plead to him inside of a dull echo. Her breathless voice carried over towards him across an incalculable distance that could not be measured by maps or time.

“ _Please don't leave me.”_

 Jaime smiled faintly once his eyes fell shut.

_I’ll always choose you, Brienne._

\----------------------

**  
**

Sleepless nights and anxious days were woven together into an endless procession of hours, always blurring together on the rough edges of both lunacy and sanity.  To Brienne, all of the sleepless nights made her feel like as if she were somehow lost inside of the unfinished hems of some absurd and fraying dream.

The healer stayed with Brienne, as promised.  Ever vigilant to her charge, Fauna focused on Jaime’s condition; she had no intention of losing another person after suffering the loss of a child just days ago. Bitter roots were boiled and ingested, musky herbs and bitter tonics were prudently administered; progress was slow but the healer was intent on having the friend of the strange woman survive his illness.  By the third night however, Fauna was beginning to feel apprehensive; either his fever would have to break soon or he would surely die before sunrise.  With painful reluctance the healer left Brienne alone with Jaime on the third night; one of the tenants of the inn suffered a grievous wound to the head while feeding a spooked horse. Though Brienne was nervous to be left alone with him, Fauna assured her there was little else they could do at this point.  “It’s up to the gods now, sweetling. Just be there for him; no matter what happens, he will know you're with him.”  

All that night she held his hand. As hard as it was for her to fathom, Brienne dared to imagine a life without Jaime. She thought of his kindness, his arrogance, his stubbornness, his eagerness to please and his willingness to right all of the wrongs. She remembered all of the times he made her smile; all of the silly, embarrassing stories he would tell her just to get her to laugh. In the dark silence of the room, while a winter storm raged outside, she held his hand and squeezed it tight. Brienne soon realized how impossible it was for her to imagine a life without Jaime. _How can I ever imagine not holding this hand again?  How can I imagine a world without ever seeing this face..._

She didn't want to admit it but the maid carried a tender heart: it was fragile, it had been battered; it had been torn apart and halfheartedly stitched back together, time and time again. Stitched back together so many times the total sum of her heart had transformed into a pale knot of ragged scar tissue; scars that she thought were long ago healed would sometimes crack open and bleed inwardly, flooding her aching chest with a dull, familiar pain. But for her to imagine a life without Jaime? A heart can only withstand so much abuse before it finally gives out.

She ran her thick fingers through his hair with a comforting ease and a disarming familiarity; she numbly stared into the fire as she listened to his labored breathing. _Maybe I’m just tired: I’m tired of being alone; I’m tired of being insecure. I’m so tired of believing that love belongs to everyone but me._

The thought was an intrusive one but it struck a chord within her just the same. Once she acknowledged just how starved she was for love Brienne felt an instant, shuddering breath hitch at the back of her throat. She watched Jaime’s furrowed brow pinch together in his sleep; she had no doubt that his mind was lost inside the shadowy labyrinths of some fevered dream.  

Watching his face fold from anger to sadness in the breadth of his dreams, something inexplicable happened; a thick wall surrounding her heart began to crack.  Brienne watched Jaime’s breathing turn laborious and slow; a dark chill ran through her blood.

In spite of her fears, a strange, overwhelming peace fell upon her; the strangling weeds of dread and uncertainty no longer ruled her fragile heart; instead, a woman’s courage began to unfold and slowly bloom. With a shallow breath she dropped her face close to his head and pressed her lips to his temple with a small, loving kiss. Choking back on her tears Brienne whispered into his ear with a quiver in her voice.

_“Please don't leave me.”_

A long moment passed. Jaime's breathing slowly returned to deep, even breaths. With a cautious smile Brienne felt like she had emerged from the gauzy tangles of some impossible dream. For one brief moment she thought she saw a faint smile cross Jaime's pale face before it fell slack again.

And still, he slept.

**  
**

\----------------------

 

**  
**Fresh daylight filled the humble room. Over the craggy terrain of the moors, a dense veil of fog blanketing the snowy fields started to melt away. Determined rays of golden sunlight started to burn off patches of fog, offering up the mild promise of another beautiful day. **  
**

Sunken deep into the bed, Jaime’s dark eyes began to flutter open; still half asleep he stretched out his long limbs under the heavy blankets until he could feel every one of his muscle tremble. He felt whole and rested, but he still felt incredibly weak. His joints ached, his neck was sore and his chest felt heavy and sunken in. Slowly turning his head off to one side he found Brienne seated at the foot of the stone hearth, carefully watching the fire.  She looked exhausted.  Her thick shoulders were hunched over, arms crossed wearily over a demure lap; she was halfheartedly watching a kettle of water roll to a quiet simmer with heavy lidded eyes.

He studied the maid carefully and felt his heart twist with a fresh yearning; licking his dry lips he finally croaked out for his wench. “Hey.”

With a quick flinch Brienne twisted her body around to be seated next to Jaime on the mattress. Her face was thin, her eyes were dark and her skin looked ashen…but it was her impossible smile that made Jaime feel like he had just witnessed a miracle; it somehow made him feel like a hero.

“ _Hey_.”  Her voice was soft but her full lips could not contain her cheerful relief. “How do you feel?”  Jaime shrugged a limp shoulder and offered up a languid smile. “I feel like I’ve been trampled by a bloody army.”  Brienne softly laughed over her tearing eyes. “How long have I…”  Words began to fail him; seeing her tears always made him feel so powerless.

Turning her head off to the side, the maid quickly dabbed the corners of her eyes before she finally spoke. “You’ve been asleep for three days.” The news felt like a splash of cold water running down his back. “You had a terrible fever. I had to send for help…” Brienne looked down at his hand and slowly shook her head; she continued in a thready whisper. “I was so worried.”

Moved by her confession Jaime tried to swallow past a lump in his throat; he lowered his eyes back down to look at her hands. So grateful to have her in his life he began to weave his fingers into hers. Jaime shifted his legs beneath the blankets to get more comfortable; with a slight pause he narrowed his eyes at the maid in mock suspicion. A slow, flirtatious smile started to crawl across his mouth.  

“Did…”  Brienne looked down at his smirking face. “Did you _bathe me_...wench?” Brienne felt a hot blush climb up her neck. “I’ve only just realized now how _very naked_ I am right now.”  She had to laugh in spite of her abashment; he narrowly escaped the dark reach of the Stranger, and still Jaime was a merciless tease.

Brienne wiped away her unruly tears and let out a watery laugh; Jaime had to laugh too, he hated seeing Brienne cry. “We had to get your fever down, _ser._ Besides…” She sniffed her running nose with a clean, defiant smile. “...it's nothing I haven't seen already.”

Feeling his head fall deeper into the pillows Jaime briefly opened his mouth to say something in return, but for once he was silent.  Instead, he watched the wench’s bright eyes glow and felt delighted to see her lovely smile.

Ignoring her countless fears, Brienne decided she was going to be brave.  With a soft hum of contentment she started to run her fingers through his hair; the lightest touch against his ear made Jaime close his eyes and quietly gasp from the tenderness of it. Brienne was amazed; she had no idea she could ever do that to him...to anyone. Feeling embolden, the maid held Jaime's face while running one thumb over his cheek; his eyes once again fluttered shut; a breathy sigh escaped from his lips; Brienne started to wonder how she ever knew joy without ever knowing that wonderful sound before. Running her thumb over his temple she heard him hum like a kitten stretched across a sunny gold windowsill; eventually, he opened his eyes and carefully considered her. He looked at her as if it was the first time he’d ever seen her...as if he had been born with new eyes. He slowly propped himself up with one arm on the straw mattress and studied her once familiar face with fresh eyes and a new wonder.

_How long have I've truly been asleep?_

“Thank you.”  His voice turned hoarse and his throat felt tight.  “Thank you for taking care of me.” Jaime’s face fell down to look at their conjoined hands.  He sighed mournfully.  Shaking his head he reluctantly finished his thought in a small, nervous voice. “I—I just wish I was someone who was worthy of you.”  Brienne honestly never thought in a thousand years she would hear those words from a man she cared for.  But to hear those words from Jaime…it felt like she was being reborn inside of a beautiful dream.  

Though his illness made him feel vulnerable and exposed Jaime knew he had to say those words to her. He felt ashamed.  All this time he thought he was being so clever when he decided he was going to kiss her: he planned it all out so carefully, he had even planned it out in several different ways. He wanted to kiss her beneath the night sky, under the light of an incandescent moon and the glittering spray of bright stars to make her feel cherished and safe; as if though they were the only two people left in this world and nothing from the seven hells could ever touch them again.

He wanted to kiss her in the daylight, next to a babbling creek and the sound of their laughter ringing in the air; he wanted to make her feel special and pretty, as if the sun in the impossibly blue skies and the green miracle of spring beneath their feet meant nothing to him when compared to her.

He wanted to make her laugh and make her forget all about her looks: her height, her freckles, her teeth and all of her scars; he wanted her to feel joy and contentment before he tied his mouth to hers, letting her know that it was her alone that made his entire world so beautiful.

But instead, something else happened. Just like anything else that is carefully planned out, life takes a hard look at all of your assumptions and decides that you need to take a sudden detour.  For every scenario Jaime had planned for Brienne's first kiss, he always saw himself as being healthy, smiling and strong; he was always confident, secure and in control. Never in those imagined scenarios did he ever see himself being sickly, broken, insecure or vulnerable. It was supposed to be him who was going to be strong for her in all of the ways he'd imagine; instead, it was Brienne who became all of those things for him and more.

Though he was sick, frail and exhausted, Brienne didn't care; he was still Jaime.

_I'm tired of being alone..._

Without a moment to think twice, the maid pressed her full lips against his temple and gave him a full and loving kiss. Jaime froze still in utter amazement. Prying her lips away with closed eyes, Brienne began to softly nuzzle Jaime’s warm, scratchy face against her own.  She could suddenly hear his breathing turn hard; after a long moment the maid languidly kissed his rough cheek as well. She slowly pulled her head across his face to his other cheek—she was so close to his mouth. Instead of his mouth she surprised him and kissed his bare neck instead, just below his ear. Jaime wasn't even aware that he had gasped out loud. Surrendering her heart to chance, Brienne skimmed the heel of her thumb over his bottom lip before she slowly lowered her thick lips down on to his panting mouth.  

And so, she kissed him.

The flickering embers of an impossibility started to burn with only the simple act of an innocent kiss. Brienne felt her mouth slowly part while her lips barely grazed over Jaime's lower lip. Nervous and fearful, she softly closed her lips over the flushed skin of his mouth; she was terrified yet willing; she was such an innocent. As their first kiss gradually turned into a slow burn, Brienne felt her inhibitions unravel once her lips started to close; she slowly kissed his top lip soon after. It was stunning for her to realize how natural it all had seemed, how innocent it all felt.

"You're perfect, Jaime." Another kiss, shuddery and fearful, closed down on both of his lips together with a sweet and tender pressure. "You're perfect."

With his eyes closed he felt his head start to spin; Jaime softly opened his mouth and began to carefully slip the tip of his tongue over Brienne's lower lip. Feeling a bolt of warmth surge through her, Brienne dared herself to open her lips a little further in turn. After a slow, delicate unraveling of her full mouth, Jaime's seeking tongue finally touched hers, and their entire world melted away into a perfect and healing darkness.

**  
**

**Author's Note:**

> My heart aches for France; my entire heart. All of my thoughts and prayers belong to everyone in Paris.
> 
> Liberté, égalité, fraternité


End file.
